Beautiful
by fadedmystery
Summary: Most girls he dates are pretty, or attractive, or hot. Never beautiful. He can count the number of females he considers actually beautiful with one hand. He never expected her to be one of them. -Dasey-


**A.N:** Hey there! Well, I was stuck by some inspiration, so I decided to deviate from my usual formal style of writing and try something slightly different. This is my first Life with Derek story, and I don't think I did such a great job with it, but I'm posting it anyway so I can get your opinions on how I could make it better in order for me to improve... I love this show, and the pairing, and I hope you'll like this story too. Have fun reading!

**Beautiful**

Saturday night. Derek's sitting on his recliner and watching a hockey game on TV when Casey walks down the stairs. He immediately knows that it's her even without looking because, _come on_, even her _steps_ are dramatic.

"So," she says brightly, "What do you guys think?"

He ignores her, but from the corner of his eye, he can see Lizzie (who's sitting on the couch) grin and say, "Wow, Casey. You look great!" He can also hear her mutter, "Too bad Truman's not worth it." , and he swallows a grin of his own.

He senses Nora (a pregnant Nora, no less. Aren't they a little too old to still be procreating?) walk into the living room and hears her tell her daughter how lovely she looks, and ask what time she'll be home from her date with Truman (because yes, she's still dating the scumbag. And because, yes, Casey's finally thrown her self-respect out the window), and yadayadayada. Absently, he wonders how Casey, of all people, could have a date while he doesn't have so much as a party to go to tonight. When did his life get so lame?

Nora goes back to the kitchen and Lizzie leaves the living room, so it's just Derek and Casey, and he's still ignoring her. Ignoring her….until she opens her mouth to speak.

"Derek," she suddenly asks. "How do I look?"

The question's so sudden and so strange that he actually turns the TV off and twists his body so he can face her. "What?"

"How do I look?" she repeats. "Do I look alright?" He gives her that _why-the-hell-would-you-ask-me-that-question_ look that he always gets when she asks strange stuff, but she's stubborn and won't stop asking him until he gives her an opinion, so he sighs, frustrated.

"Jesus, Case, why do you want to know what I think? I'm not the poor sap who asked you out. Shouldn't his opinion be the only one you want to get?" he grits out, annoyed.

Casey's annoying him. That's nothing new. But Casey's annoying him now, not because of the questions, but because she's actually being self-conscious and insecure, and where the heck did that confident, I-don't-care-what-you-think girl go? It's a new kind of annoying, and he's sure he doesn't like it.

"_De-rek_," Casey says his name like two words again, only this time, she says it like she's explaining something to a small child. "I just want to know what you think, that's all. Would you please try to be a human being for once and just give in?"

"_Casey_." He says her name like a frustrated, exasperated sigh. "If I tell you what I think, will you shut up?"

"Yes," she replies, and she grins so widely that he wonders suddenly why she had to ask _him_. He doesn't voice his question out loud, though; instead, he only stands and studies her.

She's wearing a blue top with ruffles in it, and a black skirt that isn't too short but doesn't make her look like a grandma either. Her hair's let loose in waves, and she's wearing that blue eye shadow she still wears when she goes out on a date. She's looking at him expectantly, waiting for his answer, the corners of her glossy lips quirked in a small smile.

And that's when it hits him.

Good Lord. Casey McDonald is actually…_beautiful_. Not pretty, like he thinks most girls are, but actually beautiful.

Most girls he dates are pretty, or attractive, or hot. Never beautiful. He can count the number of females he considers actually beautiful with one hand. He never expected her to be one of them.

The realization is like a sucker punch to the gut, and he staggers back to his seat. Where did _that_ come from?

And if he's honest with himself, he's not sure he wants to know the answer right now.

"You look…" he says, and damn it, why is his voice just a bit more hoarse than usual? "Uh, good. I guess." Suddenly, he smirks slightly and shrugs. "I mean, you know, if you don't mind looking like a hooker."

She gapes at him. "What?"

"Your skirt," he clarifies, "It makes you look like a hooker."

She throws a pillow at him and calls him a number of things. Pig, rude, insensitive, disgusting—really, what hasn't he heard before? He's not sure why he lied _(that voice in his head better shut up, or else)_, but what's done is done, so why bother thinking about it? Amidst the pillow-bashing, he asks her why she's so affected by his opinion, and why does it matter to her anyway, and she says it doesn't.

"I don't care what you think of my outfit," she tells him, cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed. "Your opinion doesn't matter to me. At all."

When Truman finally picks Casey up for their date, she's wearing jeans.

..-*-*-*-*-*-..

Isn't if funny that they both go to college to get away from each other (the fact that they're going to the same place isn't relevant; it's a big campus, after all), yet they still seem stuck with each other, so much that it's like high school all over again?

He says to himself that he's just evening out the score by calming her down before her presentation because she helped him to not psych out and go crazy before his first college hockey game. He tells himself he's just being a good stepbrother (Good and Derek in the same sentence. How funny. Oh, and what a _lame_ excuse) when he allows her to drag him away from a party in order to help her study for a huge test (why she asked _him_, again, he has no idea).

By the time he offers to drive them both to the hospital to be with the rest of the family while Nora's in labor in order to get Casey to stop hyperventilating, he finally admits to himself that he has no excuses or explanations left.

Well, there's the obvious explanation. But he refuses to say—or even think--it out loud.

She's muttering under her breath and checking her watch every few seconds, and yeah, it was getting on his nerves (Then again, since when has Casey never gotten on his nerves?). Truth was, even he was getting sort of anxious, because come on, this is still his sibling they're talking about here, even if he/she is a half McDonald.

Oh God. In a matter of hours, he's going to share a sibling. With _Casey_. His stomach lurches at the thought, because there's something that feels really _wrong_ with the fact that there's going to be a living, breathing someone that actually links them in terms of family. (He's never thought of her as a sister. The 'step' in stepsister and stepbrother is there for a reason, you know.)

It's a red light, and Casey groans when the car slows down. "No," she says, and he's not exactly sure who she's talking to right now. "Come on, traffic light, turn back to green. We have to be there as soon as possible. Come on…."

He rolls his eyes and turns to face her. "Casey---" He stops short when he feels that familiar kick in his stomach, only this time, it's coupled by his heart (Huh. Who knew he had one?) plummeting down and then soaring upwards.

Because Casey's hair is completely messed up from all her tugging. Because she's not wearing a single brush of make-up. Because her eyes are red and puffy from the stress, like she hadn't been able to sleep a wink, with her mouth set in the most unattractive—but definitely the scariest--of scowls.

And he still finds her beautiful.

Which is driving him crazy, because of all people, why did it have to be _her_?

Derek's pretty sure he's going to hell for suddenly wishing that his dad and Nora never had this kid.

..-*-*-*-*-*-..

A month later, it's a weekend, and they're both back home for Marti's birthday. Baby Nathan Venturi is the real star, though, and even Marti's grown to love him. Casey's making cooing noises at her baby brother, beaming so widely that it looks like her mouth is going to fall off at any minute.

Derek doesn't know how much of this he can stand. He'd taken one look at the little guy and knew that he could never hate the kid, but when he'd seen the eyes, so alike with Casey's, he'd promptly gone upstairs to the bathroom and thrown up.

It's after dinner, and it really does feel like old times-- he's sitting in his trusty recliner again, while Casey's blabbing to Emily on the phone about every topic, from the latest lip gloss color to how wonderful it feels to be single again (Didn't he tell you? Casey broke up with Truman a _long_, long time ago, two weeks after college started. It was one of the better days in his recently fucked-up life.)

The call lasts well into the night. Eventually, everyone leaves for their rooms and Casey goes into the kitchen to continue the conversation. He stays right where he is.

He has a score to settle with her.

"You shouldn't have done that, Casey," he says the moment she walks back into the living room. He sees her freeze. "You had no right to tell them."

"Derek, I never apologize to you, but this time, I really am sorry. It just…slipped out, I swear," she says, and he stands up.

"It doesn't make a difference. I _asked_ you not to tell them—when was the last time I asked for something like that from you? You couldn't just keep your mouth shut for once, could you, Case?" He feels it building slowly—genuine irritation.

During dinner, Casey had let it slip that he was having trouble with one of his classes. She'd been able to mention quickly, when she'd realized her mistake, that the reason why was because his professor had favoritism issues, but the damage was done. He'd gotten an earful from his dad—even Nora had thrown her two cents in--, about how he should make the most of college, because sending two teenagers to Queens at the same time was no easy task, and how he had to stop fooling around and grow up, etc, etc…

See? What did he tell you? Coming home really did feel like High School: Part 2.

"Derek, I'm sorry, okay?" she snaps, folding her arms. "I didn't mean to tell them; I said it without thinking, and I can admit that. But who are you to judge me about keeping secrets?"

"I never said I was, but while we're on the subject of character, aren't you the self-confessed proper, straight-and-narrow-walker between the two of us? And yet isn't it ironic that I haven't told anyone else about what happened with you and Truman at Toronto, but you go off telling the parents the dirt you have on me the moment you get the chance?"

"That's not fair, Derek," she snaps, and she actually looks hurt at his words. _Good_, he thinks. Let her be the one who feels like crap this time. He doesn't know where it comes from, but suddenly, he wants her to hurt, to feel the same idiotic pain he's felt for such a long time because of her, no matter that she never knew what she was doing to him.

Isn't _l--lo_---no, he can't say or think it just yet, because he's _Derek_, after all--supposed to feel good? Just his luck that it makes him feel like the exact opposite.

"Besides," she continues on, "You're such a hypocrite. You're preaching at me about trust, but you can't even tell your dad about this whole thing yourself. You know what that makes you, Derek? A coward."

Soon, it's a medley of voices as the arguing becomes worse, voices rising, words getting harsher. Even his heartbeat is quicker than usual. They're in the middle of shouting at each other, when his supremely-pissed-off-at-Casey-mind suddenly registers that it's _her _he's arguing with.

And suddenly he knows that he must be completely twisted, because hell, even his anger at her can't take away her beauty.

In that moment, he –_almost_- hates her for it.

It's also in that moment when he realizes that he's had enough of…well, everything. So he does the stupidest thing he could've done: In the middle of heated words and fired-up emotions, he kisses her. Because.

Because a person can only take so much before they break.

The movement is unexpected, but suddenly, his lips are on hers, one hand resting on her waist. It takes a few seconds before his mind numbly realizes that he's kissing _Casey_, but he pushes the thought away because he's been wanting to do this for _so_ long, and oh god, it feels so good.

She starts to kiss him back. It feels even better.

There's no sweetness, no tenderness there. It's rough, demanding, consuming— all anger and hate channeled into some twisted form of passion. They struggle frenziedly to get closer to each other, and there's nothing pleasant or easy about the whole thing—it's more like a competition to see who one can bring the other closer to the edge with just a kiss. A contest to see who's better at hurting the other person.

He realizes then that this isn't the way things are supposed to go. This isn't the way things are supposed to be. Not with her.

So he pulls away.

..-*-*-*-*-*-..

It's time for them to head back to Queens. They don't say a word for the entire trip.

Of course, it's Casey who breaks the silence, because let's face it, she's always been more of a blabbermouth than he is. The moment he parks the car in the deserted parking lot of the campus, she opens her mouth.

"You're seriously going to just ignore me?" she says, and the anger and disbelief in her voice is unmistakable. "After what happened last night, you're really just going to sit there and not say a word?" He doesn't reply, so she slumps back in her seat in frustration. "God, Derek, you're _unbelievable_."

It takes a long time before he says anything at all. "What do you want me to say, Casey?"

"Why are you asking _me_ that question?" she exclaims, throwing her arms up in defeat. "You're the one who kissed me. The least you can do is give me an explanation."

"And what good will that do, huh?" He wishes they were still on the road right now; it would've given him an excuse to focus on driving and not on her. "If I tell you the reason why, what'll happen after that? It doesn't matter anyway."

"It matters to _me_," she fires back. "Derek, you've spent the past few years making it clear that you intend to make my life a living nightmare, so forgive me for being surprised by your sudden change of heart."

"Casey--" He rests his arm on the window and digs his nails on his palm, because he wants to _feel_ something besides that damn tightening in his chest. For a moment, it's silence, and it's so loud and uncomfortable that he feels like he's suffocating.

"I just want to know why," she finally says. "If that was part of your latest Screw-with-Casey's-mind scheme, then tell me. Or if not, say that you did it because you were caught up in the moment. Or let me know that even you don't fully understand why you did that. _Anything_ would be better than just sitting there and making the both of us look like the biggest idiots on the planet."

He keeps his mouth shut. Because he's stubborn like that.

She shakes her head, and the only word to describe her expression at that moment would be 'disgusted'. "I should've known," she mutters to herself, a distinct note of bitterness in her voice. She unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car.

He doesn't even think about it; he doesn't even stop to weigh his options, because he's too drained, too empty and too _fucking_ tired to do anything else but go after her. Because no matter how stubborn he wants to be, in the end, he knows that he can't let it end this way.

She doesn't manage to get far before he catches up and grasps her arm (He ignores the electric shock that hits him when his skin touches hers). The parking lot is barely lit, and when he turns her around to face him, her face is half-shrouded in darkness. He doesn't speak, and for a moment, they're facing each other, both breathing hard.

"Derek, let me--"

"Did you feel anything?" he asks her, and he's faintly surprised to note that he's breathing hard. Hmm, must be the typical reaction when you're setting yourself up for the possibility of getting kicked to the ground. "Last night, did you feel anything at all?"

For a moment, she falters. "I--"

"It's just a yes or a no."

"You don't have the right to ask me this kind of question," she snaps at him. "Not until you answer mine."

Another game—this is what it was. Ever since she'd walked into his life, they'd been playing this stupid game of Dance-Around-Each-Other. It had just snowballed into something else, something out of their control over the years. And like all games, it was only a matter of time before someone broke. He'd just never thought that it would be him.

"Fine. You want to know the truth? It's simple: _You're_ wrong. " He tips her chin to face him square in the eye. "I did it because I wanted to. Don't you see? You have me, Case," he says in an almost harsh, strangled whisper, and god, it hurts so much to say it but he feels strangely relieved at the same time. "Do you understand that? Despite everything, You. Have. Me. _You_ win. Game over."

He holds her gaze for a moment before he lets her go and begins to walk. He won't wait for her reply. He's said what he wanted to say, so yeah, he's going to his dorm room now so he can be a pathetic sap in private. He feels like he deserves that much.

"Derek."

He can't help it (stupid emotions); he turns around. She's right in front of him.

Casey takes one of his hands and holds it in hers, and the gesture does so much more for him than other action could've done at that moment. She looks up, and when he looks into her eyes, he sees that she's just as broken and tired as he is.

"You have me too," she says quietly.

And just like that, he suddenly understands what all the hype about being in _l-lo-love_ (there, he can say it now) is all about.

He tells himself that she's as beautiful as ever. But for the first time, he doesn't feel disgusted with himself for thinking it. For once, that familiar kick is actually…_pleasant_, and he feels the lightest he's felt in months. They just stand there, his hand in hers, not saying a word—then again, what else is left to say, anyway?

Above them, the streetlamp flickers slowly, growing faster and faster until it finally gives off a clear, bright glow.

* * *

So, what did you guys think? Like I said, I don't think I did such a great job on this, and it isn't my best, but I'd still love to hear some feedback and constructive criticism....read and review, please! and thanks for reading!


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